


Investigative Journalists Really Shouldn't Make Assumptions

by Pegasus_Eridana



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Inappropriate use of a lift, M/M, Oblivious Bilbo, Strong silent Thorin, accidental dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/pseuds/Pegasus_Eridana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins firmly believes that Thorin Oakenshield does not speak English. And therefore proceeds to detail all the things he'd like to do to Thorin, while Thorin is standing right there. </p><p>There's no way this can backfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Investigative Journalists Really Shouldn't Make Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ismene_Jane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/gifts).



> So this is a prompt from one of those AU lists going round tumblr. The inestimable Ismene_Jane sent it to me and asked, nay, begged, that I write this one. How could I refuse? Especially since she then beta'd it for me, and did a stellar job, if I may say so.

In retrospect, Bilbo should perhaps have checked. Thinking about it logically, of _course_ people who were journalists at _The Arkenstone,_ an English-speaking newspaper would be able to _speak English_. That made a certain amount of sense.

But, in Bilbo’s defence, he had never actually _seen_ Thorin speaking English. The only times Bilbo had heard him speak (in that sexy, growly rumble of his that probably vibrated in a deep rumble all the way through his chest and if you rested your head over his heart you could _feel_ it…) he had been speaking some kind of guttural language that sounded a bit like it might be German or Russian or something, with Dwalin. Dwalin, of course, spoke English too, but as he was head journalist for war and conflict, Bilbo just sort of assumed that Thorin had been brought in from another country for a consultation. Being himself an investigative reporter who was currently engaged in exposing Smaug and his gold-smuggling ring, there was little cross-over in departmental meetings and the like.

Others seemed to know Thorin, too, often calling out greetings to him. He’d always reply with a nod or a grunt or a wave, never words. So Bilbo just assumed.

Hindsight is always 20/20, and of course really it was only common sense to realise that Thorin could probably speak English.  

The problem was, _Thorin_ and _common sense_ somehow just never worked together in Bilbo’s head. Probably because one of those things stemmed from Bilbo’s actual brain in his actual head, and the other from…elsewhere.

So the first morning that Bilbo, Bofur and Ori found themselves joined in the lift by Thorin, Bilbo saw no reason why that should disrupt their morning gossip ritual.

Which, recently, consisted mostly of Bilbo waxing lyrical about all the things he would like to do to Thorin, with Bofur snickering, and Ori nodding along sympathetically. It was alright for him, he already had his own big, grumpy, macho wet dream in the shape of his husband, Dwalin.

“I mean, it’s just not fair,” Bilbo lamented as the doors slid shut after admitting Thorin. “The man is just so _big_ , I bet he could just pick me right up and slam me against the nearest wall, and just—”

“Bilbo, he’s standing _right there_!” Ori hissed, just as Thorin choked on his morning coffee.

“Well yes, but it’s not as if he can understand what we’re saying,” Bilbo replied. Ori gave him a strange look and opened his mouth as if to say something, but Bofur started talking loudly about weather, and then the lift dinged and the doors opened to their floor. Bilbo walked past Thorin, giving him a polite nod and noting that the other man’s cheeks seemed rather pink. Well, that was no surprise; it was August after all, and that lift could get very stuffy, _and_ Thorin had just been coughing. If anything, the colour brought out the snapping blue of his eyes even more. Like Bilbo said. Not fair.

As Bilbo walked away from the lift, he could have sworn that someone was staring at him. He could almost _feel_ eyes boring into the back of his neck, but when he turned around, only Thorin was there, and he was walking over to Dwalin, saying something in his own language that made Dwalin let out a bark of laughter.

***

And so it continued most mornings thereafter. Thorin always seemed to get on the same lift as Bilbo, Ori, and Bofur, and continued to be the main subject of said lift gossip.

Bilbo was usually not the most confident around his crushes. But there was something…liberating…about being able to basically talk dirty at Thorin whilst knowing that there was no possibility of being rejected or mocked, because Thorin couldn’t understand what Bilbo was saying. So, day after day, Bilbo didn’t bother to censor himself too much, gazing at the shirt stretched over the muscles on Thorin’s back, as he spoke.

“His fingers Ori, have you seen his fingers? I want those fingers inside me so badly, they’re so long and thick…”

“I bet his dick is as big as the rest of him. I’d suck on it like a lollipop.”

“Imagine the burn you’d get on your thighs from that beard of his…”

“I swear to you, Bofur, given half a chance, I would climb him like a tree and ride him off into the sunset.”

“Bilbo, I think you’re mixing your metaphors a bit, there…”

“Leave ‘im be, Ori. Lad’s in a world of ‘is own.”

This rather pleasant morning ritual would probably have continued indefinitely, were it not for one morning where, as usual, the lift doors slid open to their floor, and standing there was Gandalf, the events reporter of _The Arkenstone_ , waiting.

“Ah, Thorin!” he said, bestowing a friendly smile on the whole group of them. “I wanted to talk to you about next week’s fundraiser.”

“Of course, Gandalf,” Thorin replied in (oh horror) an impeccable English accent. Almost as though it was his first language… “Let me just go and gather my notes and things from my desk, and I’ll meet you in your office in five.” He strode off without a backward glance.

Had he chanced to look back, he would have seen Bilbo turn an alarming shade of white followed by a deep red, as the earth opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole.

Well. That last part was actually wishful thinking. Instead, Bofur and Ori each grabbed one of Bilbo’s arms just as his knees buckled beneath him, and escorted him to his cubicle.

Easing down into his chair, Bilbo tried to make his vocal chords work again.

“He…”

“Yup,” said Bofur, sounding, in Bilbo’s humble opinion, far too gleeful. “That language you heard him speak with Dwalin? They’re cousins, and it’s some kind of fake language that they made up when they were kids and never really stopped using.”

“I…”

“You did.” Bofur agreed.

“Oh _shit_.”

Bofur clapped Bilbo on the shoulder just as Ori returned with a steaming cup of tea, which Bilbo accepted gratefully. After a few sips, however, he regained his faculties enough to glare up at his two so-called friends.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” He asked accusingly. Ori, at least, had the good grace to look a little guilty, while Bofur was completely unrepentant.

“You should have checked, shouldn’t you?” He said unsympathetically.

“I did try to tell you, that first time,” Ori said. “But then it was too late and you’d already said it, and then Dwalin said—”

“ _Dwalin_ knows about this, too?” Bilbo said, incredulously.

“Not from me!” Ori said, holding up his hands. “Thorin told him.”

Bilbo had not cried in public since he was five and his cousin Lobelia scribbled all over his lovely flower picture. He feared that winning streak was about to be broken.

“I really don’t think he minded, Bilbo,” Ori added hurriedly. “Dwalin said that he was sick of Thorin pining over you and that perhaps if we didn’t tell you, you’d keep going until Thorin finally found some courage and asked you out.”

“No way did Dwalin put it like that,” Bofur interrupted. Ori blushed.

“Yes, well, I get enough graphic descriptions of Bilbo and Thorin having sex from _Bilbo_ without adding my husband’s, thank you,” Ori said primly.

Bilbo groaned and buried his head in his hands (after putting his mug down. There was never a good excuse to waste tea).

“But this is good news!” Bofur said. “Ye want to fuck Thorin, Thorin wants to fuck _you_ …why are  ye still freaking out about this?”

“Because I just realised that I have basically been _sexually harassing_ a man for _weeks_!” Bilbo hissed. “Regardless of how he may or may not feel about me, which is doubtful enough given the circumstances, that kind of behaviour is _unacceptable_!”

“Well he obviously didn’t mind too much, because he could have asked you to stop or taken a different lift,” Ori said reasonably. “In any case, there’s no use thinking on it any more right now. Thorin is in a meeting, and you have that deadline today. You’d best put it out of your head for now.”

“You’re right,” said Bilbo, nodding decisively. “And that is precisely what I shall do.”

***

The rest of the day went in rather a blur. Bilbo managed to get his piece in for the deadline, but the thought of Thorin and what he must think of Bilbo lingered at the back of Bilbo’s mind for the duration.

Finally, it was five o‘clock, and Bilbo made his way to the lift, wanting nothing more than to go home, make a nest of blankets and pillows, drink tea, eat a lot of biscuits, and possibly never leave his house ever again.

He was so lost in his plans for wallowing that he didn’t realise until the lift was already moving that there was one other person in the lift with him.

A small squeak escaped.

Thorin quirked a brow at Bilbo, and Bilbo felt his knees go weak. Not entirely from embarrassment, either. 

“I am… _so_ sorry,” breathed Bilbo. “I would…had I known, I would never…” his nerve deserted him, and his voice trailed off. Thorin’s lips tilted upwards.

“Mr. Baggins, may I tell you something?” he said, in that rumbly, deep, and _very_ English voice.

“O-of course,” Bilbo stuttered. His breath caught as Thorin closed the distance between them and bent down so that their faces were level.

“I rather liked the things you said,” Thorin murmured in a voice that was _far too sexy to be fair_ and-

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo said, brilliantly.

“I said,” Thorin grinned, bringing his face even closer to Bilbo’s, “I _liked_ it.”

Bilbo let out another squeak, although this time it was less of fear and embarrassment and more of arousal because Thorin’s face was _right there…_

“And,” Thorin continued, evidently bent on giving Bilbo a heart-attack, “I would be most willing to help you to experience some of your fantasies…first hand.”

Of their own accord, Bilbo’s hands travelled up, over Thorin’s bulging biceps and solid shoulders, and wound their way into his thick black hair. Thorin’s arms came up to form a bracket on either side of Bilbo’s head. They stared at each other for a moment, then Thorin let out a growl and lunged forward, capturing Bilbo’s lips in a crushing kiss.

Bilbo whimpered and opened his lips against the onslaught. Thorin’s beard scratched at his own hairless cheeks, and Bilbo knew he had been right. Those coarse bristles would tickle and scratch at the soft skin of his inner thighs, leaving red marks that would linger and tingle for days afterwards.

And Bilbo _wanted_.

Thorin muscled in even closer to Bilbo, hands trailing down until they cupped Bilbo’s buttocks, squeezing and lifting slightly. Bilbo let out a groan when he realised what Thorin wanted, and he obligingly lifted his legs, trusting Thorin to hold him. Thorin did, and Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist as Thorin pressed him against the wall.

Then Thorin started to grind and rub, and _oh, there, there…_

The lift dinged, and the doors slid open to admit Dori, who strode in, took one look at the embrace in which the two of them were locked, and backed out, saying in a slightly frantic tone,

“Not to worry! I’ll get the other one!”

The doors slid shut again, and Bilbo looked at Thorin, who had that gorgeous pink blush spreading across his cheeks again.

“So…you really didn’t mind?” Bilbo asked shyly. Thorin dipped his head and kissed Bilbo again, slow and sweet this time.

“Bilbo, I cannot overemphasise how much I _did not_ mind,” he said, voice surprisingly gentle, happy, and relaxed for a man who had just been discovered ravishing another man in a lift. “In fact, I hope you will let me take you out to dinner this evening, so I can show you the exact level to which I did not mind.”

“I would love that,” Bilbo said, a smile breaking out on his face. “Let’s go!”

“Well, uh…” Thorin said, “You may not have noticed, but the lift is now going up again. I imagine we may have to face our friends’ gloating before we are permitted to leave again.”

“Not to worry,” Bilbo said, snuggling closer to Thorin and placing a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. “As long as I can remind you at some point of all the things I want to do to and with you. That is rather important.”

Thorin gazed at Bilbo for a long moment, then whirled around, still holding Bilbo, carried him across the lift to the floor buttons, and pressed one which made the lift shudder to a halt.

“How about,” Thorin said, “you show me now, and our waiting friends be damned?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Bilbo immediately said, pulling Thorin down for another kiss.

***

If, when they finally emerged from the lift about half an hour later, Bilbo was sporting several visible hickeys and Thorin’s shirt was buttoned up wrong, everyone was kind enough to keep the gloating and teasing to a minimum.

Mostly. 

***

My [tumblr](http://heckamightygadzooks.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I am happy to accept prompts, so if you have any that you think I can fulfil, drop me a message here or on tumblr (which should be linked above if my grasp on technology hasn't failed me entirely) and I shall see what I can do!
> 
> Comments and kudos give me absolute life.


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